WEEK 13 – MKMMA MASTER KEY, CRAIGNITO, TURNS TO HIS GOOD FRIEND, SUBUCON, FOR SOME NEEDED ADVICE

Craignito: “Hey, Sub, you know that MKMMA program I’ve been raving about?”               Subucon: “Yeah.”                                                                                                                             Craignito: “Well, I’ve gotten behind, and I need to catch up.”                                                 Subucon: “Okay. What specifically are you behind on?”                                                          Craignito: “My Week 13 blog post is not done, and, now, Week 14 is almost due. Plus, I haven’t made any of my ‘designated five’ comments, or been in the Alliance much recently.”      Subucon: “Yeah, I noticed!”                                                                                                            Craignito: “Any suggestions?”                                                                                                         Subucon: “Would you like me to start at the top of the list, or the bottom?”                     Craignito: “Funny, very funny, Sub.”                                                                                            Subucon: “Okay, okay, I hear you. First, let’s look at the bright side. Oh, I know they are all bright sides, depending upon how we choose to look at things; but let’s pick something that doesn’t require any kind of mental gymnastics. Did you not, just moments ago, FINALLY, connect with your MMA partner, Zoey?”                                                                                     Craignito: “Yes, I did! YAY!”                                                                                                             Subucon: “That’s better! If it’s one thing I’ve learned, I’ve got to get you in the right frame of mind to begin with; especially, since, along with everything else, you haven’t exactly been a giant in the ‘7-Day Mental Diet’ department either. Have you? So, here is what I recommend: 1. Focus, first, on the bottleneck – which is your Week 13 blog post; 2. Write something quick and simple, such as a rewrite of that poem you ran across the other day; because, indirectly, it does touch upon three of the ‘Seven Laws of the Mind’– the ‘Law of Substitution,’ the ‘Law of Forgiveness,’ and the ‘Law of Dual Thought;’ and 3. Use NARC – Neurological Associative Reactive Conditioning — to guarantee you get it done!”                                                         Craignito: “Subucon, I don’t know what I would do without you!”                                         Subucon: “Craignito, here’s a revelation: no one wants to know what you would do without me!”                                                                                                                                                    Craignito: “Ha, ha.”

A couple decades back, after saying some things to my girlfriend that I immediately realized I shouldn’t have, I wrote this verse:

She seemed so very sad,                                                                                                                        Since news just now was bad.                                                                                                              When this I clearly saw,                                                                                                                                 I acted like her pa.

For I felt just as she                                                                                                                                Upon this she would agree.                                                                                                            Perhaps, not quite as strong,                                                                                                       Somehow, I made her wrong.

Of course, not my intent                                                                                                                           The way her brow now bent,                                                                                                               Spoke well without a word,                                                                                                                        Of how my voice was heard.

No right, or wrong, I find.                                                                                                                          No judgment fills my mind.                                                                                                                      Yet, I would take it back,                                                                                                                       What may have seemed attack.

For something in my voice                                                                                                                   Spoke not the words of choice.                                                                                                                     If tears ran down her face,                                                                                                                            I see as no disgrace;

To hide such things no need;                                                                                                                       A healthy heart must bleed;                                                                                                                When worse to hold inside,                                                                                                            Emotions thus denied!

If grieving must be done,                                                                                                                       Then soon it’s best begun;                                                                                                                        For time cannot erase,                                                                                                                                Or all alone replace,

The thoughts that wear a frown,                                                                                                         When we are really down.                                                                                                                             If clouds were filled with pain,                                                                                                               They would prefer to rain.

Why hold inside what’s rotten                                                                                                           What’s better off forgotten?                                                                                                                    For thoughts will linger on,                                                                                                               Though cause of which long gone.

So, who am I to steal                                                                                                                               What so truly she did feel?                                                                                                                         To call it sympathy,                                                                                                                                Instead of empathy?

Though there may be a line                                                                                                                        To know what I define,                                                                                                                          What seems to work for me,                                                                                                                    She still must wish to see.

So much of life’s confusion                                                                                                                          Is built upon illusion.                                                                                                                                     A pair of unmatched socks                                                                                                                       Can prove this paradox.

Should these be donned at night                                                                                                               In absence of all light,                                                                                                                             When color’s all there is                                                                                                                               To know if both were his.

He may go all the day,                                                                                                                                   So happily on his way,                                                                                                                             Until it’s pointed out,                                                                                                                             What up to now no doubt

Had caused a downward look;                                                                                                                  For granted he had took.                                                                                                                          But now his head is reeling                                                                                                                         From brown and red revealing!

No matter what he did,                                                                                                                            The joy of this is hid.                                                                                                                                   The smiles of all now dim,                                                                                                                          To know were aimed at him!

The protocol of life                                                                                                                               Seems filled with so much strife!                                                                                                            The dreams we chase are simple,                                                                                                            Till we look and see a pimple!

Though all is left behind,                                                                                                                           It’s still stuck in our mind.                                                                                                                         We cannot take away                                                                                                                                The stuff we do or say!  

Sometimes, it may be best                                                                                                                         To wait for their request.                                                                                                                  Perhaps, when things seem rough,                                                                                                  Silence says enough.  

And so as now I’m sittin’,                                                                                                                         And look at what I’ve written,                                                                                                                 The thoughts that fill my head,                                                                                                           Leave so much to be said!  

And when will I unclutter,                                                                                                                        The jumbled thoughts I mutter?                                                                                                               For it’s the things we do                                                                                                                         That make our dreams come true.  

Though doubt may fill some parts,                                                                                                       Look back at how this starts;                                                                                                                       It cannot be denied,                                                                                                                                   You are the “she” implied.  

And one more thing is sure,                                                                                                                       As much as it is pure;                                                                                                                            Those times when you can’t smile,                                                                                                              I love you all the while!

Hey, Subby, my post is done! Can I get my cards out of the trash now?

You’re asking me?

Wise ass!

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